


i am in love with what we are (not what we should be)

by bisexualeriklehnsherr



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M, Funerals, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Pregnancy, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, pre-season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 04:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11051601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualeriklehnsherr/pseuds/bisexualeriklehnsherr
Summary: Steve Wyatt never gets to meet the Knope-Wyatt triplets. Ben has Leslie to help come to terms with this.Sometime in between season 6 and 7.





	i am in love with what we are (not what we should be)

**Author's Note:**

> In which I kill Steve Wyatt in order to show what a great marriage Leslie and Ben have.

When he was a kid, Ben would dread waking up. He’d have a hard time even falling asleep, always worried about what the darkness might bring him. He’d fall asleep with a lamp from his nightstand turned on, dream restlessly and wake to his parents fighting.

Like clockwork.

They were usually loud, curse-filled fights that woke Ben up long before his alarm clock. His parents were never very good at keeping their spats contained or under wraps. They would pace the upstairs hallway as they yelled, ensuring that their children heard every word. At least Ben was never late for school.

Even after his parents divorced and he grew out of his fear of the dark, Ben hated waking up. He would linger in the mornings, always dreading that inevitable feeling of wakefulness. This was something Leslie hated when they first got together. She’d sleep her usual four hours and then try to wake Ben, who would slobber a kiss on her shoulder and turn his back towards her. It was pretty infuriating. 

 

On the morning of his father’s death, Ben wakes with that familiar sinking feeling. Despite his history, it’s still unusual to have this feeling since he started waking with Leslie beside him. Instinctively, he reaches for her, hitting the cold bedsheet beside him; the feeling growing exponentially. Pregnancy had allowed for Leslie to find the magic of sleep and Ben had become used to actually waking up curled next to his wife.  

Ben could finally look forward to waking up with Leslie in his arms. He would kiss a path down her body, her moans like the perfect alarm clock.

But this morning, Leslie isn’t there. Ben groans and turns into his pillow. Maybe if he falls back asleep, she would sheepishly slip back into bed, lips brushing his temple in silent apology for whatever had her leaving his warm embrace so early. Ben happened to love when she did that.

Life, however, has other plans.

“Ben,” he hears Leslie’s voice, soft, before her lips on his bare back. He hadn’t heard her come in. “Are you awake?”

Ben groans again in response and tries to find Leslie’s hand behind his back in order to pull her back to bed. He’s exhausted, with a one-track mind to restart this morning with his beautiful wife. She stiffens but relents, laying on top of the covers and he finally turns toward her. Before he can flatten his body against hers, Leslie lays his hand on his bare chest and Ben finally has to open his eyes.

Leslie's crying. 

Immediately, Ben tries to wipe the sleep from his face, reaching for her red cheeks, frantically brushing away falling tears.

“Leslie? What’s wrong?” Ben brow furrows and he turns to bring her closer. Leslie’s still dressed in her pie-themed pajamas and her hair is pulled back from her face. He can’t pull her all the way against him because of her large bump, jutting out from her button-up pajama top. His hand goes to it immediately, worried about the babies.

“Ben, I’m so sorry,” Leslie says, grabbing his hand and bringing it to his lips. Ben’s gaze darts around her face, not fully understanding. With Leslie, the tears could be for a commercial on TV or a death in the family.  

“Your father died last night.”

So, Ben guessed about right.

 

Stephen Wyatt suffered a heart attack while watching the Twins game Tuesday night. Apparently he had gotten too excited and Ulani had walked in with him on the floor, clutching his arm. He died in the hospital a short while later.  

Ben learns this from Henry, when they arrive in Partridge, hours after Leslie tells him the news in the comfort of their shared bed. He had jumped out, searching for a suitcase until Leslie had laid a hand on his arm.

“I already packed, babe,” she said, softly. Ben had turned into her arm, wrapping his arms around Leslie, nose rubbing into her neck, belly fit snugly between them.

“I love you,” he said, voice muffled by her, “whatever happens the next couple days, I want you to know I love you so much.”

Leslie started to cry again.

When they arrived in Partridge, Ben had wanted to rent a hotel room (under Leslie’s name of course) but Leslie insisted that they stay in Ben’s old house, his father’s house, in order to help Ulani in any way they can. His old bedroom had turned into a guest room and Leslie plops the bags down on the bed.

Ben runs his fingers over the embroidered comforter, trying to remember how this room had been set up when it was for teenage Ben, with his twin bed and inappropriate posters. He had loved this room when it was the perfect getaway from his father and his brash criticism of whatever Ben had decided to do that year. Model UN, baseball, Ice Town.

“I just feel bad for her and Theo,” Leslie says, turning towards him and Ben has to nod. He can’t exactly fault Leslie’s need to feel useful in stressful situations. Her natural ability to be helpful, even if it’s not wanted, was one of the reasons Ben had fallen in love with her.

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up,” Ben pulls her close, breathing in her scent. “They aren’t exactly the warmest people.”

Leslie smiles, leaning her forehead against his and Ben has to close his eyes to revel in the fact that he has this, he has her, and he doesn’t have to go through this alone. It’s been almost six years of Leslie and Ben still has to remind himself that he is just that lucky.  

“That’s what I’m here for,” Leslie whispers. “I make grumpy people into happy people.”

 

Now, sitting with Henry in his father’s house, Ben watches Leslie talk to Steph and follow Ulani around, asking if she needs anything. For what feels like the hundredth time that day, Ben’s throat dries and his eyes sting. Leslie sets a glass of water down beside him, quickly brushing the back of his neck before going back in the kitchen with the women. He reaches for her as she walks away, but Ben only manages to grace the ends of her skirt before she’s off, helping someone else.

He yearns for her. 

Since they arrived, Ben’s only had a few spare moments when they were alone and not sleeping. He holds her tight at night, maybe too tight but she doesn’t say anything. Ben feels selfish in his need for Leslie, wanting her to sit next to him and hold his hand. He understands that she’s needed elsewhere. It’s what makes him say nothing. It allows him to watch her leave instead of tugging at her skirt and pulling her into his lap in front of everyone, hand on her growing belly and nose in her hair.

“I always thought he was incapable of death,” Henry says, taking a sip of his beer. Ben turns away from the kitchen and looks at his older brother, lines on his face that weren’t there before. “It just doesn’t seem possible that we would be sitting here, you know?”

Ben nods. “I always thought he would die in some interesting way, long after all of us.” Ben takes a sip of the water as Henry agrees with him. He watches as his older brother bends down to hand a toy to his son, who immediately shrieks with delight.

In the corner is Theo, Steve’s youngest son, a boy not even four years old and now without a father. He plays with Henry’s oldest, Hank, a six year old who has the best behavior of any of the children that are here. More than once, Ben had caught eyes with Leslie staring at the children and they take a breath together, even from across the room, readying themselves for the chaos that is waiting in Leslie’s stomach.

“Theo looks like him, doesn’t he?” Henry asks, following Ben’s gaze to the boy. He does, even with his darker skin that he inherited from his mother. “This is going to be so hard for him.” Ben has to nod at that.

Steve was Steve, but he was still a father, wasn’t he? This is only the second time Ben had met Theo, and he’s still barely come to terms with the fact that he had a brother nearly forty years younger than him.

“It’s just doesn’t seem fair,” Ben says, and he knows that’s one of those things people say about death, but it feels so true here, when a three year old has to grow up without a father.     

“I would’ve liked him to meet my children.” It surprises him to say it, not because it’s not true, but because it is. When Ben had rushed in, half-drunk and dirty, asking Leslie to start a family, he had talked about the lakehouse, not the people in it. Still, he remembers his father teaching him how to swim out there, and deep down Ben longed for his father to do the same to his own children.

Henry sits up and Ben feels bad for obligating him to a serious conversation, too serious for what they’re relationship usually is. Instead, Henry wraps his arm around Ben, squeezing his shoulder. “He would’ve loved them, Ben.”

Henry’s youngest daughter, Georgia, yanks on one of his fingers, shrieking as she manhandles his hand. Henry smiles. “We’ll love them too, if only because they’re half Leslie.”

That makes Ben laugh hard enough to nearly draw Leslie out of the kitchen.   

 

The funeral is a quiet affair. Ben hasn’t even spoken to his mother, but he’s not all that surprised when he sees her there. For a moment he’s worried that Leslie will go to her, wanting to stop any hint of conflict before it starts, but she’s beside him, slipping a warm hand in his and pressing close. With her warmth and bright yellow hair, she feels like Ben’s own personal sunshine, even in black and during a day of mourning. Her lace dress falls over her bump and Ben lays his hand on it to keep him grounded while the priest begins the ceremony.

In the middle, Ulani starts crying and Theo becomes disinterested with the action figure in his hands and nearly throws it into the grave.

Still, Ben considers it a success, if a funeral can be considered that. To be honest, Ben doesn’t catch most it. He’s in a daze, watching his father be lowered into the ground. Ben doesn’t want to imagine the imposing figure of his father in a box, six feet underground.

Leslie walks to a black SUV and Ben follows in a daze. She rides in the back with him as an unknown man in the front seat chauffeurs them back to the house. Leslie looks out the window, her fingers laced in his. He wants to say something, speak about his feelings in ways she wishes he would do more often. Whenever he pieces the words together to explain how he’s feeling, his throat dries up and he just wants to stare at Leslie some more.

She catches him one time and turns towards him, lips turned up in a slight smile.

“What’s up?” Ben just shakes his head, bringing her knuckles to his lips. She frowns and tilts her head. “Do you want to talk about anything?” Ben shakes his head again, hopes it conveys _not yet_ instead of _no_. He wishes he could find his voice, but it’s somewhere back at the grave site with his father and he can’t talk without wanting to cry.

Leslie reaches for him, unbuckling her seatbelt to get closer. “Come here,” she says, low and loving and he follows, arms wrapped around her waist and head on her shoulder. He buries himself in her neck, just like days ago when she broke the news to him, and rubs her belly.

He loves this about Leslie, loves how much she’s grown in order to understand people, _him,_ enough to know what he needs without him having to ask, to know when to toe the line and when to cross it.  

 

Despite this immediate comfort, Ben knows Leslie isn’t satisfied. She wants more from him than a silent embrace. He could feel her disappointment in the car and he can feel it now, with her next to him as people come to them to pay their respects. Leslie has to do the talking for the both of them. Ben can feel her eyes go to him every time another former coworker of his father’s comes to them, but he forgets how to speak temporarily and she flashes her brilliant smile and charms them into not saying anything about Ice Town.  

Instead of finding ways to make himself talk, Ben thinks of family trees. He had to do one in elementary school, and without the help of his screaming parents, he went through old photos in order to find pictures of his distant family. Aside from the few of his grandparents, Ben couldn’t find any.

He desperately wanted his children to have a huge family tree, complete with aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousin, not fully realizing how little control he had over these things.

Now his children will be out two grandfathers. They’ll give their family tree presentation and maybe mention Steve and Robert but they won’t know who they really were. They’ll never be able to get to know them.

Leslie manages to find a break in the line and drags Ben out of there. He’s never loved her more.

“We can’t be gone for long,” Leslie says, grabbing him a glass of water as if it will cure his inexplicably dry throat. “I don’t want to give them another reason to hate you.”

Ben leans against the counter, sipping at his water and watching Leslie label the casseroles. She doesn’t have to do this but Ben understands the need to feel useful even if he isn’t able to do it himself. She stops writing, Sharpie in mid air.

“Sorry if that was mean.”

Ben chuckles and Leslie looks up, a slow smile taking up her face. He reaches for her and she barely has enough time to cap the pen and put it down before he’s pulling her flush against his body. He kisses her, there in his dead father’s kitchen, because he can’t _not_ after what she’s done for him today.

“I love you so much,” Ben says as he pulls back. It’s the first words he’s uttered since the funeral. Leslie pats his chest.

“I know,” Ben smiles again. “We gotta get back out there.”

Ben forgets Leslie has experience at funerals.

 

He can’t talk about his own grief but he wants to know about hers. They lay in bed at night, lights out, when he asks.

“What was it like when your father died?” Ben asks and Leslie turns toward him, her skin blue from the night sky.

“I’ve told you what it was like,” she says and it’s not defensive, just curious. He grabs her hand and kisses it.  

“Can I hear it again?”

Leslie sighs, not in an irritated or exasperated way, but it doesn’t stop Ben from feeling guilty. This is his last act of selfishness, he promises, and then he’ll be able to understand how to grieve properly.

“I had been pulled out of school early that day and I was angry about it,” Ben has to chuckle about that. Of course ten year old Leslie loved school. “I remember that anger because I remember the guilt that followed.”

Leslie turns towards him, fingers drawing patterns on his chest, if only for something to do.

“She had been crying and she took me home and told me what had happened,” Leslie whispers, and Ben can feel her words against his neck. “I understood what she was saying but it didn’t feel real. It was like a dream and I would wake up or it was a joke and my mother would laugh and my dad would come around the corner and apologize for making me so upset.”

Leslie lays her hand against his cheek, fingers playing with the slight stubble. Ben looks at her, her eyes shining in the reflection from the moon outside.  

“I was numb for so long, some of my friends thought I wasn’t sad enough. I remember walking home from school one day and taking a shortcut through Ramsett Park,” Leslie says through tears. “There was a man that looked like my father, or maybe I just wanted him to, but he turned around and he wasn’t my father. I went home and cried and didn’t stop for an entire week.”

Ben takes her hand, placing kisses along her fingers, swollen from the pregnancy. They’re warm and he lays them against his forehead, closing his eyes. He has to say something. He can’t make her go through that again and not say something.

“Our children aren’t going to have grandfathers,” Ben says, voice cracking from lack of use. He hears Leslie sharp intake.

“Ben, they have the family they have. We can’t change that,” Leslie says. It’s harsh, but true.

“I wanted more for them than I had. I wanted them to be surrounded by people who love them,” Ben whispers. He can’t stop looking at the ceiling, all his emotions rushing to his throat.

“They will, Ben, they will,” Leslie says, emphatically. She sits up on her elbow and Ben has to look at her. “It won’t be the same because we’ll love them just as much as we love each other. That’s something your parents didn’t have.”

She lays back down and Ben almost worries that he’s angered her but she puts her hand back on his chest.

“You grieving for your father is going to be different than me grieving for my dad, especially with the babies,” Leslie says, and it’s so matter of fact that Ben needs to understand.

“How so?” He asks, and he can feel him losing his voice.

“I lost my dad when I was ten, Ben, so it’s never occurred to me that he would meet my children,” She whispers, and Ben’s heart aches for an adolescent Leslie, losing her father but not her fire. “If anything, I wished for me to get to know him more, not my children. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”

It’s another act of kindness from Leslie, one of too many from this week. In her words, she tries to absolve Ben of any self-consciousness he feels over his own grieving process. It’s incredibly kind but also very unhelpful. It also doesn’t exactly work.

Ben feels that familiar dryness in his throat and he knows that the time for sharing is over. Still, he feels lighter when Leslie leans down and kisses him, and Ben feels pleased that he kept his end of the bargain. It’s not enough, but it’s something.

 

It all comes to a head their last night in Partridge.

Ulani sits in Steve’s old chair, in front of the TV, with Steve Jr. sitting at her feet. Ben stands at the kitchen, trying and failing to not stare as they watch a reality TV show, then an old sports game, then a talk show.

“She’s distraught,” Leslie says, handing him dishes. Henry and Steph had come over and Ben had made dinner, Ulani and Theo quiet as Leslie tried to make polite and inclusive conversation. Leslie being fake has always grated at Ben’s nerves and tonight was no exception. “It’s worse than I thought.”

“We’ll all come back and check on her,” Ben says casually, wiping down a wet plate. He can feel Leslie’s gaze from his peripheral, but he just keeps drying the plate as if it’s the most important task ever.

“How’s Henry and Stephanie?” Leslie asks, voice getting quieter.  

“They’re sad, I guess,” Ben says, so nonchalantly he has to wince. “They’ll be fine, though. We all will, eventually." 

Leslie sets a dish back into the soapy water and turns to him taking the cloth out of his hands and wiping hers off with it.

“How are you doing?” She fights to keep eye contact with him, blue eyes blazing. Ben sighs and sets down a finished plate.

“You know how I’m doing,” Ben says and it feels like a warning. Leslie just shakes her head.

“I really don’t.”

“Leslie—”

“Ben, I love you, and I know you have a hard time talking about your feelings. I’m trying to be supportive but I just want to understand what’s going on inside your head.”

Ben tries to busy himself by putting away the dishes, except he can’t find where they go and he slams each cabinet shut in desperation. He feels Leslie flinch behind him.

"Would that be nice for you? If I fell apart? You’ve already proven yourself to be amazing and supportive. What more can you do?” Ben asks, bitingly. The guilt and anger and sadness from the last couple days are coming up inside him. He doesn’t know where the anger comes from, but it’s not a nice part of him.

Leslie reaches out for him, confused. Ben doesn’t feel like he’s one to be reasoned with. And he really doesn’t want to cap this trip by making a scene in Steve’s kitchen with Ulani and Theo in the room over. “I can’t do this down here.” He turns and storms to the guest room, Leslie hot on his heels.

“Why are you angry?” Leslie asks, voice calm. Ben shrugs, pacing the small room.

“I don’t know. It’s just seeping out of me. I can’t stop it,” Ben sits on the bed. “I can’t even speak about my father. I don’t know how. And you’ve been amazing and wonderful and you shouldn’t have to be. I should be better than this.” He slaps the part of the bed next to him and Leslie grabs his arm.

“Ben—”

“Don’t. Don’t do that thing where you make me feel better or like I’m being normal,” Ben feels the tears sting at his eyes.

Leslie reaches for his hands.

“Babe, when I first met your parents, I thought they were crazy. Steve scared the shit out of me, and no one scares the shit out of me. And you've had to deal with them your entire life.”

Leslie puts her hands on his shoulder. “I love you. My job is to be here for you. I want to be here for you,” Leslie says, turning his head towards her as if he won’t believe her. He doesn’t know what it is that makes that true. “This guilt and anger towards me is misplaced. You know that. You’ve had to be the adult since you were a kid, it’s OK for you to not sure how to react to your father’s death.”

Ben takes her hands, bringing them to her lips. “I miss him. I was always so angry at him, but I want him to be here for me to be angry at him. I wish he was here,” he places his hand on her bump, Leslie wiping his tears away. “I wanted him to meet them so much.”

Ben does fall apart.

His dam breaks as he sobs in Leslie’s arms, her loose hair engulfing him in her scent and surrounding him in her. She whispers _I know_ into his hair over and over and Ben understands. This is what it feels like, to be completely surrounded by someone who loves you. This is what it’s always felt like, being the object of Leslie’s love.

Before he falls asleep, Leslie runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the thick strands. She speaks softly and it nearly lulls him to sleep.

“That anger and resentment and guilt and sadness you feel toward your father — it won’t go away. You find things that are beautiful and make you happy and they fill in the gaps.”

If it’s possible, Ben feels his heart grow just by her words.

He thinks about home.

Being in Partridge for too long always makes Ben yearn for Pawnee more. It may be selfish two days after his father’s funeral, but Ben doesn’t belong here and maybe Steve would understand that.  

Ben wants to take Leslie home. To their house which she has so lovingly made into a home. He wants to go home and finally work on that nursery. Ben wants to watch as Leslie stresses out over color swatches because, “every color is gender neutral, Ben, don’t be obtuse.” He wants to put three gorgeous babies into the beautiful crib that Ron made them and he wants to watch them grow, three human beings that are half him and half the woman he loves more than anything.

Ben tightens his arms around Leslie and she instinctively snuggles into his neck.

“I think I have a few already.”

 

Ulani hugs Ben when he and Leslie pack up the car.

“Thank you for coming,” she says, her voice remaining the same octave. Ben nods, trying to act like a comfortable human being.

“As he gets older, he can call me about anything, okay?” Ulani just nods, looking across the yard at Theo who is running around trying to catch a butterfly or something. For the first time, Ben feels a pull towards this boy who shares his blood. “We’ll be back. Tell Theo we’ll be back with little friends for him.”

 

In the car, Leslie turns up the radio and sings along to a song Ben has never heard of. He laughs and alternates between watching the road and looking at his beautiful and bold wife.

Sometime in Wisconsin, she turns down the radio.

“So,” she says, smiling up at him and he grins back. “I’ve been thinking of names for the little ones.”

Ben nods. “Okay, let me hear them.” He would be content to just wait until they actually see the babies before naming them but Leslie doesn’t plan like that.

“The first boy — Wesley.”

Ben quirks his eyebrow. “Like Snipes?”

Leslie scoffs. “No, Ben, he’s not really named after anybody. It just feels like a very smart name, doesn’t it?” Ben nods, if only at Leslie’s eagerness.

“Westley… Robert.” She looks down, almost self-consciously. “After my father, of course.”  

“Why not have his first name be Robert?” 

Leslie shrugs, looking at the greenery outside. “That’s my father’s name. Our son should have his own name.” Ben grabs her hand because he has to, bringing it to his lips.

“Wesley Robert. I like it. What about the next one?” Leslie turns to him, smiling mischievously.

“Stephen.” Ben barks out a laughter. Leslie pushes herself up in the seat. “Why not?”

“You just said they deserved their own names!” Leslie shakes her head, smiling at him.

“Everyone called your father Steve. So just no shortened nicknames for Stephen,” Leslie pats his shoulder and Ben finds himself inexplicably warming up to the idea. “Stephen Henry, because you love your brother and he’s great.”

Ben feels tear prickling his eyes for what has to be the millionth time this week. “That sounds fantastic, honey,” he says, clearing his throat. “What about the girl?”

“Oh, she’ll be Sonia.”

“Sonia?”

“Come on Ben, after Sonia Sotomayor,” Leslie slaps his shoulder. “A name for a new and exciting addition to America.” Ben laughs.

“And her middle name?” Ben yelps as Leslie slaps his shoulder again.

“Duh, Ben, Sonia Ann,” Ben nods, agreeing that he should’ve seen that one coming. “She’s going to be the most breathtakingly beautiful, smart, intelligent and hardworking daughter of all time.”

Leslie beams up at him, the sun outside nothing on her smile. “They’re all going to be so great.”

Ben sneaks a kiss from Leslie before she tells him to watch the road. With his eyes ahead of him, his hand finds the familiar spot on her bump, feeling his children kick under it.

“They’ve got your blood, babe, they have a pretty good chance.”  

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Did anyone else wonder why, for such a funny show, the writers decided to have their main character's father die when she was so young? It feels like so many of her motivations in life could be to make her father proud but idk, the show didn't go too much into it. 
> 
> thanks for reading everything including that morbid as hell question!
> 
> tumblr @ bisexualeriklehnsherr.tumblr.com


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